


This world so green and sweet

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2472002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel builds Dean a world to protect him from the inevitable horrors of the real one....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaige68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/gifts).



> An AU birthday fic for my 1_million_words friend Kaige68. She asked for... "Herbs. I saw all of those/these/whatever works for whatever character vertical gardens on Pinterest and decided I could grow herbs. I love the idea of either Dean/Steve/Danny/Castiel being on Pinterest and getting inspired by the 'check out what people are pinning' emails!"
> 
> This is set somewhere in the time when the angels are trying to get Dean to say yes to being Michael's vessel. Sorry it took me so darn long to wrap it up!

“Honey… I’m home.” 

Dean Smith dropped his jacket over the table in the foyer, setting his messenger bag on the floor next to it. He quirked a half smile as he heard it: Cas’ snort of gentle derision from the direction of their living room at his greeting.

“Hello, Dean. Have you made the world safer for capitalism?” 

Cas only looked up from his laptop for a moment, but it was enough – that flash of blue eyes, the way Cas was kicked back on the sofa so loose and easy and visibly happy to see him. Dean felt the aches of his work day leaving his bones.

“Better than safe! I kicked total ass. I got Sandover Bridge and Iron three times more advertising weight in June than they pulled last summer for thirty percent less spend and half of it placed in _national_ media. _Half!_ Who’s the man? I am, baby. That’s for damn sure.”

He held up his right hand while his left worked his tie loose and Cas took the offer, gave him a strong high five. Dean knew it was only to be polite. He could dig ditches for a living or deal blackjack or wait tables and it wouldn't matter a damn bit to Cas. It was consoling in one way, but in another….it was hard to celebrate a day like today with someone who didn’t care about the victory involved in making huge amounts of money.

“Something smells….awesome.”

“That would be your dinner,” Cas set the computer on the coffee table, heading for the kitchen. “Turkey meatloaf, baby peas, spinach salad with shaved cheese and balsamic dressing. I baked us an apple pie, too.”

“You didn’t have to go to all the…”

“Let you roll in at ten and crash with nothing but cold pizza and beer in your stomach? Unlikely. Besides… my class has been cancelled for the semester, so….I have time.”

“Again?” Dean couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice.

It couldn’t be Cas’ fault; he was an awesome teacher and writer. That’s how they’d met: Sandover had ordered their execs to study various motivational strategies. Dean thought it a total waste of time until the instructor of ‘Shooting from the Heart Not the Hip’ walked in the room.

Okay, so maybe his taste for dark haired, blue-eyed men made him overvalue Cas’ teaching skills. And maybe Cas didn’t fret about succeeding like Dean did or gauge himself by how others saw him. But Dean wanted success for him because…

He stopped himself right there. Couldn’t quite wrap his brain around the ‘L’ word, over how he’d gone from “Hiya, teach….” to “….will you move in with me?” so quickly.

“It’s all right. The classes augment my income but seminars pay the rent. I’ll focus on them. Perhaps it’s a blessing: I can use the time saved to work on the book.”

The book that would be written sometime around 2055 at the rate Cas was going. For someone sharp and magnetic, he could be ...all over the place.

“I’ll take this outside,” Cas slid by where Dean had settled onto the sofa with his plate, his left hand squeezing Dean’s shoulder, ruffling his hair as his right hand grabbed the pot pipe from behind the laptop. “See you in a few.”

“Yeah, babe,” Dean bit back his thoughts about the pipe as he tore into the meatloaf which was…wow. So freaking good. “Take your raincoat. It’s threatening out there.”

~*~

“What are you reading?” Dean nudged the laptop with his elbow, his hands busy with a plate containing a healthy sized slice of the pie.

“Hmmmm?”

Cas either didn’t hear him or pretended he hadn't; sometimes it was hard to tell. Dean watched him slide his body around a bit, feet finding the coffee table, head finding Dean’s left shoulder as he kept on web surfing and Dean kept eating the pie.

“You’ve got your ‘that’s really cool’ face on,” Dean said, mouth half full. “It's different from your ‘I need to remember this for work face.’”

“I want to build one of these in the kitchen,” Cas turned the computer screen toward him.

“Build. In... the kitchen? Build what?”

Dean hadn't said "my kitchen" but …even he could hear it in his voice.

"It was … only a thought," Cas didn't move an inch as his hands turned the screen away from Dean's eyes. "Never mind."

"No, sorry. I didn't mean… c’mon, show me again. What is it?"

"Something I found on Pinterest; a vertical garden. Plants. Growing upward. Stacked."

"And you want to build one because..."

"I like to cook, and you seem to enjoy the results. I can grow herbs and maybe some lettuce and kale. The kitchen would look and smell amazing."

"Have you ever built anything like that?"

"No. I haven’t; nothing even remotely like it. And I've never grown plants. But I think I'd be good at it and..."

"Go for it."

"Are you su...."

"If it'll make you happy? Hell, yeah. Cover the walls in weeds, see if I..."

"Herbs aren't weeds. Most of them aren’t, anyway..."

"Context, man. I was being extreme so you'll know I really mean it."

"Oh. Thanks, Dean. I'll take that as a vote of confidence."

Dean knew enough to bite his tongue. Not to get into the difference between encouragement and confidence.

~*~

"Are they supposed to look that way? All yellow? And floppy?"

"No. They're not. The bulbs filled with water irrigating them gradually? I think I went with too many for the number of plants Involved. I can adjust and..."

"Not gonna save this bunch is it?"

"No. Definitely not."

~*~

"What's that smell?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Cas, c’mon, there's no way in hell you don't smell that."

"It may be root rot; mostly in the kale, and maybe in the oregano as well. They dried out rapidly after an overwatering and ...I'll tear it all out and try again."

"Have you thought about a new hobby?"

"Dean...."

"I'm just saying..."

~*~

"What the hell do I do? If you're not back in time?"

The third try had been the charm; the wall of sprouts had become a thriving thicket of sweet, sweet greenery. They'd made many salads from it, added the herbs to fifty different, excellent meals. Their kitchen was a new space, full of life and energy and...

…now Cas was going away. For his seminars.

"I'll be back long before the watering system runs dry. Mist them with the spray bottle.”

Dean understood, really he did; the seminars went hand in glove with the book Cas had actually finished writing; an opportunity for him to make a difference, to help people. Help them what? Become better. Stronger. Less co-dependent on their brothers. 

Where the…. hell had that come from? He…. didn't have a …brother. Neither did Cas, as far as he knew.

"I swear you've got nothing to worry about, Dean."

"That's a fine sentiment, man, and I hope for the integrity of these plants you're right but last time you told me you’d be gone a week it was twenty and...... "

"You know how you get. How you overthink. Please… breathe in and let go. Can you?”

"I hear you,” Dean let his forehead fall to the shoulder offered to him, breathed the scent of Cas’ neck in deep, sighing. “I'll try. I will."

*~*

"Hell, baby, yeah. So _oooooo_ ….good..."

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard of his bed, back pressing into it as his hips twisted, body writhing, his brain past the point of sitting up to watch Cas' face bobbing up and down over his lap anymore.

“Fuck….yeah…. _mmmmm_ ….”

Cas was stretched out on his belly, going deep on Dean’s cock – sucking and spitting and taking him in another inch at a time until Dean felt the strong, tight fluttering of throat muscles around the head of his dick and….

“Jeeesus, fuck, yeah.. Don’t stop, Cas, _uhhhh_ … like that…. _nnnngngggh_ …..ohhhhh… fuck, ye _aaahhhh_ hhhh…. _Castiiellll_!”

He came so hard that nothing could stop it – not even the realization that he hadn’t known what ‘Cas’ was short for ‘til right that second.

Except he had. He’d always known. Hadn’t he?

“You okay?” Dean barely had the energy to ask it – he was still spinning from the excellent orgasm, the work exhaustion and the perfect meal in between the two. “Tell me I didn’t go too crazy on your mouth?”

“It’s good, Dean….” He heard, then he turned belly-down as he felt the slap on his ass, obeying the command in Cas’ scratchy, wrecked voice. He hitched his ass up as Cas’ slicked fingers ran along his slit, pressing teasingly into his hole and….

By the time round two was over and he fell asleep, it was gone. Whatever …it was… he’d been…

…worried about.

*~*

"You can't keep this up forever, you know."

Castiel was dozing on a train headed for Tampa the next evening when he heard it: The voice - Crowley's - was so out of place Castiel thought he was hallucinating or dreaming for a second.

"Nothing is forever," Cas said, barely looking up at him. His eyes went back to his phone, the text messages from Dean he’d been reading when he’d drifted off. "But you have to admit..."

"Admit what? That to date you have him snowed under with your half-an-angel powers and his pure _want_ to believe? Fine. So you've accomplished a minor feat, despite the side-jobs from high above that your brethren keep throwing you at against your will. Book tour. Yeah…right. Book tour. As if.”

“Dean is happy. He’s…well. That’s all that….”

“You may be protecting him from them… keeping me at bay, but…do you believe you can keep your boy convinced he's working his way up the food chain at a grotty, fictional company in this turnkey little world? What do you think will happen when he realizes his buddy from the IT department is his brother? That you, sweetie, are his jailor and not his lover?”

"He'll understand. Why I've...

"No, he won't. He'd rather become the monster he’s meant to be than live in a stick figure world. He’ll kick your ass or ….”

“No…he won’t.”

“….better yet, he’ll kill you for once and for all and….damn. I can’t wait to watch that.”

Castiel wanted to tell him to not hold his breath, but Crowley was gone and …yes…the orders Cas had been asked to carry out could take weeks. Months. 

Anything could happen while was gone – it could all unravel. All his efforts to keep Dean safe.

Who knew if he’d ever even see him again? In this world…or any other?


	2. Home...for now

Castiel closed the gate to the picket fence and started toward the house, feet heavy. 

He stopped part way there and looked down at himself, at his artfully distressed jeans, the black tee and tweedy jacket that were his writer/teacher uniform and he sighed deeply. He'd had hours on the train home to try to get his head back into his role, but ....it wasn't taking. 

There should be reason for hope. He hadn't even been gone as long as he'd feared; had executed his orders from on high in five weeks instead of ten or even the fifteen it could have taken and without making his brethren look at him cross-eyed or suspect him of being the one hiding Dean from them. Still... he felt it: in Dean's terse replies to his messages saying he'd be home today, the fewer and fewer calls from him lately.

Dean knew.

He could only hope he wasn't furious. What if Crowley were right, and Dean would strike out at him when he learned the truth? Could he let himself fight back? Against Dean?

Castiel chuckled humorlessly and shook his head. He closed his eyes and let his powers swap out the jeans and business casual for his more familiar uniform. Only when he opened them and saw the black suit, the trench coat, did he feel the full blast of 'sad' hit him.

It had been so good, this past year. So very good.

"Hey," Dean ducked his head around from in the kitchen the second the front door shut, managing to say it in his unique way — the one that stretched it into about four syllables with a sweet, gruff undertone of 'hi, baby' in it. 

"Hello, Dean," Castiel set his case down in the foyer, took off the jacket and hung it in the closet. 

"Hunh," Dean eyed the black suit, the tie. "Yup, that getup on you... it _does_ ring a shit ton of bells."

"I can expl…." Castle started walking toward him, a hand outstretched.

"No," Dean gestured him to come join him in the kitchen. "Not yet, please. Not sure how much I even want to hear right away...."

"You don't remember...."

"Everything? Whatever everything means? I do not."

"What?" Castiel asked him. "Why are you smiling?"

Dean wasn’t moving, was standing in the door to the kitchen, a hand on the casing in front of him, not letting him in immediately. 

"Take a look...." 

Castiel stepped in as Dean moved aside and he smelled it before he saw it: delicious waves of fragrant herbs - cilantro, oregano, fennel. The rows and rows of escarole and raddichio and Boston green leaf lettuce were so verdant he could even smell them in the air too, along with the stronger plants. 

Dean hadn't just kept the garden alive, he'd turned it into a kitchen jungle. The entire back wall was covered with strong, thriving plants, and pots on the floor had actual tomatoes growing. Their kitchen was a world of green, so sweetly, richly fragrant it felt like ....heaven.

“Ohhh, how…. how did you do this?”

“Wasn’t easy. Not exactly Mister Green Jeans, you know? But I had a feeling you knew I was starting to get a clue while you were away and….I wanted you to have something hopeful to come home to. Wanted you to know how much I appreciate….”

"You're not...angry?"

"No. Not yet, at least. Can't promise how i'll feel later, when I remember more, but I figure... you built me a whole damn world. One where I always seem to draw aces at work, and have friends and a fat salary and a closet full of thousand dollar suits. Either you did it to protect me or this is the most elaborate kidnapping ever in the history of the world and I'm a hostage."

"I would never do anything to hurt you."

"Must love me a lot, then. Huh? To go to all this effort."

"You have.... _no_ idea," Castiel sat at their kitchen table and Dean's smile widened as he leaned in to kiss him lightly. "What do you remember? So far?”

"Mostly I've had flashes of a fragmented bunch of …really weird shit. Stuff that suggests the walls in my head that I can't quite remember around are hiding something huge. And ugly. Last couple of weeks.... I’m not sure whether to bring my briefcase to the office, or a case full of knives and shotguns….”

"You are remembering...." Castiel said. "You already own a case like that. You'll need it again....soon."

"Not soon. Later...." Dean went to the counter and brought back a cutting board full of garlic and onions from their kitchen. "...for now how about you chop? Sammy's coming over for dinner."

"Sam?"

"Well, he is my brother. Right?"

"Does he...."

"I don't think so. If he remembers anything yet, he hasn't told me. We just went golfing the other day and he didn't say squat...."

"Golf?" Cas felt himself squinting as he rolled up his sleeves. "You?"

"Yeah, that's kind of what started tipping me off. Went golfing with him for the first time the day after you left for Tampa and I kicked ass. Every shot. No one's that good at golf, Castiel, you went a little heavy on the 'Dean can do no wrong' 'cause I was shooting like a pro. That night I got the first flash and...."

"What was it of?"

"Really weird shit, like I said. I was on the ground and Sam was holding me and ..I'm pretty sure I was dying."

"Hmmmm. Yes."

"And then after that... well, there's a lot of bits of random driving and gore and feeling beat the hell up. Hey... meant to ask: What's our name, Cas?" Dean brought his own chopping board over, full of tomatoes and peppers and sat with him. "Our real last names?"

"Are you sure you want me to tell you? It could bring back a flood...." He saw Dean shrug and just his head at him, like 'go.' "Winchester. Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Really?" Dean stopped chopping but only for half a second. "Nope. Got nothing."

"You will. Soon enough."

"Will you be here with me for it? As I remember things? I'd feel better if you would ... _not_ take off again?"

"I won't, I swear. I had to this time, to keep them from.....to keep this under the radar. But I won't leave you again."

"Good. Hey, there's a bottle of red in the fridge for you guys, how about you grab it and a beer for me?"

Castiel did, happy to let the conversation trail off for a couple of minutes. He felt Dean's eyes on him as he uncorked the wine, saw him smiling again, his tongue poking out barely, teasingly when he went back to him.

"What is that look for?" Cas felt himself blushing.

"Remembered you, too. In a barn, somewhere. Big empty barn. Sparks. Freaky symbols on the walls. You looked badass, babe...."

"Oh, I doubt I..."

"Trust me......" Dean took a swig of the beer he'd handed him. "You did. Listen, something tells me Dean Winchester isn't big on saying it, but....I love you back. I think I always have, if you're the very second thing I remember. No?"

"I'd like to think so," Castiel looked down at where he was cutting the vegetables, glad to have the excuse of the onions for his blinking.

"Well, _know_ so..." Dean leaned up and kissed his eyebrow, like he was letting him know he'd noticed. "....just told you so. Now c'mon....dinner's not making itself."

Castiel let himself sink back into their world the rest of the evening; into the warm kitchen and the excellent food and Sam and Dean's easy, comfortable laughter together. 

And that night when Dean was asleep he let himself breathe in the calm and quiet of their room and prayed that they could take some of this with them when it was over - that they would never forget this place entirely, but keep it with them when they most needed to feel strong. 

Like they couldn't lose.


End file.
